Page 23 of Broken Bonds
Over the years, with our members migrating back and forth between our little found-family packs, and with more kids being born into them, it’s nearly as good as a blood connection in terms of scent.
We don’t offer that same deal to adults who show up because with the stray kids—well, they’re kids, for fuck’s sake. My father instituted that policy when he first started the pack. Of the approximately four dozen unaccompanied minors who’ve made their way to our territory over the last hundred years, it’s worked out fine.
Instead of joining, they can make their way out into the world with a small nest egg courtesy of the pack, and that’s it. We’ve yet had any opt to walk away once they arrived, although some did relocate to other packs, especially if they fell in love there.
We have family-friendly events—cookouts, softball, runs. When kids spend time with us they become familiar to the pack in a way newly arrived adults without a mate bond can’t. Newly arrived adults usually smell strongly of their birth pack. If they’re going to fit in, they must be initiated. It also prevents territoriality issues from accidentally cropping up.
The pup’s adorable. Twenty-five, with grey eyes and blond hair that’s dyed that way. A little bit of darker scruff dusting on his cheeks. Runner’s body. Maybe 5’-10” and around 180. Lips that would look gorgeous sucking cock or being kissed all night.
If he isn’t pinged on as a mate, I’m willing to bet he ends up a very popular roommate with the single gammas and omegas.
I mean, a thickly cloying smell of desire washes off him, and I’m also willing to bet it’s due to whatever he and Davis talked about. The kid realizes he’s safe and has a chance to start a new life, meaning biology not related to survival takes over.
Another reason we wait a few weeks before officially extending offers to join the pack. To let hormones settle and brains drop back into heads.
The meeting goes quickly and Mal eagerly takes a knee. Minutes later, his bike and scant belongings are loaded in my truck, the kid’s riding in the backseat, and it takes everything I have not to stop, bend Shawn over the tailgate, and fuck him right now. I bet Shawn’s got a wet spot in his briefs from his cock leaking, no doubt due to the energy from the new pup.
My only concern is Mal’s father, Randolph Sterling, and what kind of trouble he might want to cause if he learns we’ve offered Mal sanctuary.
Yet another reason to do this per protocol. I’m responsible for the pack and, as cold as it sounds, I’ll side with them over a new pup every time.
Todd walks out as we drive up and park next to his garage. “Evening, sir,” he says, the formality unnecessary, but I appreciate him setting a good example for the pup.
Todd’s brown gaze hungrily sweeps the kid’s body in a way I suspect means once the waiting period’s over, he’ll want to spend quality time with Mal strapped down and wound up.
We talk for a couple of minutes before helping Mal move his things into the one-room efficiency apartment against the back of Todd’s garage. There’s a double bed, a bathroom, a small table and two chairs, along with a small fridge, hot plate, microwave, and sink. Not fancy, but it’s clean and has heat and AC, and a small TV.
As Mal takes it in I think he might burst into tears. “This—this is amazing, thank you!”
Shawn smirks. “Don’t thank him yet. Wait until initiation.”
Todd snorts. “What he said.”
“I promise I’ll work my ass off,” Mal says. “Whatever you need me to do.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Todd says, “knock on the back door at 5:30 and I’ll feed you breakfast before we get started. Tonight you should rest. If you need to do laundry, the washer and dryer are on the sun porch, where the back door is. Help yourself and ask me if you don’t understand how to work the machines. I stocked sodas and bottled water and snacks in the fridge for you.” He points. “We’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow night after work.”
The kid rapidly nods, blinking back tears.
I reach over and grip Mal’s shoulder, gently squeezing, waiting until he meets my gaze. “We take care of our own as long as they do their fair share. When packmates get old or hurt, we still take care of them. No one starves, no one goes without. It means we protect our members. But we require loyalty to the pack.”
He nods again. “Yes, sir.”
“Always ask questions if you’re uncertain about something, whether it’s about work, or the pack, or being an omega—anything. You said you’re a plumber?”
He nods. “But I’ll do anything.”
“Give it a few days here. If it’s not working out, tell Todd and he’ll get in touch with me and we’ll arrange another job.”
“And I might look scary,” Todd says, “but as much as I might joke about wanting to bounce you around on my dick, I consider you off-limits until initiation.” He glances at me, the hunger in his gaze familiar, unmistakable. “I just hope that’s soon.”
I give the pup’s shoulder a final squeeze and release him. “I mean, if you feel like introducing him to the fun room before then to help him bleed off some tension, I’m okay with you hooking him up and letting him blow you. If he wants.”
Todd’s “fun room” is aptly named.
Shawn softly whines where he’s standing behind me, and I glance back. “Oh, did I say the magic words, mate?”
He nods.
